What You Deserve (Anything for Love 3)

He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lowered his head until their lips touched. The sweet scent of roses filled his nostrils, the smell pure, clean, surprisingly arousing. Her lips were warm, full and soft, but he did not have the time to appreciate them further.

“The fountain must be through here. I hope it is as magnificent as Lady Morford suggested.”

His hands followed the shape of her hips, settled on her buttocks and pulled her against the evidence of his arousal. A tiny gasp left her lips, giving him the opportunity to delve deeper, to explore the unfathomable depths of innocence.

He expected to encounter resistance, for her fear to taint the experience. He was not expecting her tongue to brush seductively against his. He was not expecting her to throw her arms around his neck, to press her breasts against his chest and moan into his mouth.

God help him.

All he could think about was lowering her down to the ground and pleasuring her until dawn. Many times, he had felt the forceful grip of desire commanding the most important part of his anatomy. Yet now, an undeniable need coursed through every part of his body.

Miss Smythe’s inexperienced fingers found their way into his hair, twirling, tickling, and tugging. He broke for breath, his gaze falling to the swell of creamy flesh rising up to greet him. A mumbled curse of appreciation left his lips and he captured her mouth with a level of desperation that shocked him.

So engrossed was he in plundering the mouth of his maiden, that he failed to respond to the series of high-pitched feminine shrieks and wails.

“Good heavens!”

“Oh, cover my eyes. I cannot look, Felicity.”

“What is the meaning of this, sir?”

Matthew could hear their comments, but was not quite ready to let his delicate flower go. He held her close, his tongue still engaged in an erotic dance that promised a wealth of pleasure.

“Put her down this instant.”

Miss Smythe attempted to pull away. The action left him feeling rather frustrated, ready to turn on the pack of matrons and tell them to go to hell.

He dragged his mouth from hers, though continued to rain kisses along the line of her jaw.

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered in her ear. Sensing her hesitation, he added, “This is supposed to be a love match, remember.”

Miss Smythe tilted her head, granting him easier access to the elegant column of her throat. “Oh, I love you.” The words breezed gently from her lips. “I love you so much it is killing me.”

Damn, she was good.

“Promise me you’ll marry me,” he said, calling on his rampant desire to infuse feeling into his words. “Promise me you’ll be mine.”

“I cannot live without you,” she muttered so sweetly he almost believed it. “I want to spend my life making you happy.”

Matthew fought the need to capture her mouth again.

A lady cleared her throat. “Will you let go of her and address us, sir.”

“I am going to acknowledge them,” he whispered against her throat. “Do not say a word.”

He looked up at the three horrified faces, their hollow cheeks and pursed lips evidence of their disdain. It took a tremendous amount of effort not to smirk at the ridiculous array of garish gowns. With plumes of feathers, jewels, and strange bows in their hair, they appeared more like the exotic birds in Lady Holbrook’s aviary.

“Forgive us,” he said holding Miss Smythe against his chest. The need to protect her modesty proved to be the overriding factor. A man professing undying love did not tear at his lady’s garments. “We are to be married and could not contain our excitement.”

Miss Smythe hid her face against his coat. He placed a hand on the back of her head in a comforting gesture.

“Where would we all be if we let our emotions run freely,” one of them said, her tone brimming with reproof.

“Oh, don’t you remember what it was like to be in love?”

The lady with an overly large ostrich feather jutting out of her coiffure chuckled. “I wouldn’t know. I married for money.” She paused for a moment, squinted as she stared at them. “Ah, it is Mr. Chandler, is it not? Are you certain it is marriage you seek?”

Matthew smiled. “Even the most hardened rogues may be reformed.”